


Will You Come Out Tonight?

by gala_apples



Series: The Loverboy Diet [2]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Coitus Interruptus, Established Relationship, First Dates, Loss of Virginity, M/M, Pre-OT6 - Freeform, Rimming, Temper Tantrums, Urban Fantasy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-10
Updated: 2015-02-10
Packaged: 2018-03-11 12:02:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3326594
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gala_apples/pseuds/gala_apples
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Michael's still hexed, but now he knows what went down, and what to do about it. Luckily it's a hands off, waiting game kind of cure, because he's got more important things to do today. Like go on his first date with Ray. Like get laid, one and a half times. Like catch himself in his own web of lies and completely screw over his evening. Fuckin' magic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Will You Come Out Tonight?

**Author's Note:**

> This fic has Michael emancipated from emotionally abusive and intolerant parents. I have purposely done zero research on his RL family and siblings, because that's my personal RPF line in the sand. I don't even know their names. Anything I've written about them is surely not true. This is seconded about everyone else's families.
> 
> Everyone's above the age of consent in this fic, but there are some high school/college relationships, and it's implied this relationship has gone on a while.
> 
> This fic also has non-con magical curses leading to non-con kissing.

Michael only has to get up a little earlier on Saturday than he does during the week. Twenty minutes earlier. It’s not enough to really suffer sleep deprivation, just enough to genuinely feel Ryan’s high pitched chortling as an affront to his soul. The snooze alarm is Gavin’s grapes quote. It’s as eye rolling as ever. Maybe this evening he’ll do some more recording. He could potentially develop a whole new batch of quips, if Ryan’s in a mood. He could even add a new voice to his mornings, depending on if Ray’s the kind of guy that concentrates on video games or the kind to play socially.

He considers eating breakfast as he gets dressed, but no. Gav will probably have breakfast leftovers, whenever he comes by. Michael wouldn’t be surprised if the food Geoff makes is charmed. More than that, he wouldn’t care. It’s too fucking good to give a shit on principle, and Michael can at least trust Gavin’s master to not be doing anything malicious. If there’s anything it’s just a flavour concentrate or something.

He yawns brutally as he locks the door and jams his keyring in his pocket. At least he doesn’t have a stock shift. That means being at the store an hour early. Only the manager or the assistant manager can do it though, and Michael isn’t yet because he can’t take any shift necessary. One he graduates he’ll probably get promoted. He’s got seniority, knows how to do everything and never misses a shift, what more could they want? But until June, no crack of dawn for him.

He’s tired, getting off the bus and staggering to Sweet Pulp. He’s not too tired to notice the grocery store has plywood over the windows.

“The grocery store’s shut down,” is the first thing Neva says to him when he comes inside. Of his superiors she’s probably his favourite. The level of gossip can get annoying, especially when she talks about her home life stuff that Michael couldn’t care less about, but as least she doesn’t give a shit if he swears.

“What the fuck? It’s been like five days!” His bet for Lindsay was seven weeks. She’s only lost a bit of money, as far as Michael knows, so that’s not a big deal, but his sterling reputation is tarnished as fuck. “So who said less than a week on the pool? Did anyone waste their money with that bet?” 

“No. It’s _shut down_. I was hauling in stock and the cops showed up.”

“The fuck? Why?” There’s definitely been some shady businesses acting as fronts, but who’s ever heard of laundering money through milk and bags of chips?

Neva has to be a storyteller, of course. “Well that’s what I wanted to figure out. I started texting, seeing if anyone had seen a drug deal or something. Turns out this is way worse than that.”

“Okay, and?”

“All the food they were selling was hexed.”

“All of it?” The bread obviously, but all? And with all the different brands, that definitely means the owner or one of the employees did it, not the food company.

“Yeah. The magicops came and arrested like three people. Padlocked the doors and everything. And a normal cop had to put plywood on the windows because one of the magicians went all ‘you’ll never take me alive’ and exploded the glass at the cops. Felony hexing! Can you believe it?”

“Fuckin’ crazy as shit.” Michael’s not sure what exactly to say, so might as well swear. At least if he sticks to his normal vocabulary routine, Neva might not see that he’s freaking out.

“I almost starting taking pictures, but I figured that would probably piss the cops off, and they were already dealing with shit so I didn’t want to be that jerk off bystander. I should have though, it would have gotten so many Likes on my Facebook. Do you think I should have?”

“Maybe not. They might have thought you were an accomplice and shot you or something. Hard to upload to Facebook with your brains splattered on the pavement. But you could go outside on your break and selfie in front of the plywood?”

Neva stilling contemplatively is interrupted by Eric coming in. “The hell happened to the grocery store? Is it closed already? It didn’t even liquidate first.” Neva explains the situation and Eric rolls his eyes in contempt, his primary emotion. “But that doesn’t do anything about what’s still on the shelves. As soon as people figure out it’s hexed goods they’ll snatch and run and Ebay it to the magic groupies. They should have confiscated it or burned it, how stupid are they?”

Neva shakes her head. “I just don’t understand people who get off on wild magic like that. It’s just weird. I’d never sleep with-” She cuts herself off and pedals backwards, nervously tucking her curly hair behind her ears only for it to spring forth again instantly. “Michael, I didn’t mean- I mean, I don’t mean that there’s anything wrong with you and Gavin, I just-”

Michael rolls his eyes. “Magic isn’t part of the bedroom, fucking duh. Other people can Russian Roulette that shit as much as they want. People have weird as fuck fetishes, and they can destroy themselves as much as they fucking want to. Not my problem. You don’t see me running in to get some hexed carrots, do you?”

“And never mind just what people will snatch and grab,” Eric continues. “What about what was already sold? Harley bought groceries there the other day.”

“Yeah, I know. Leo too.”

This is the perfect opportunity for Michael to say that he too has those groceries. He doesn’t say a damn word. He can’t trust either of them to not say something in front of Gavin, and he’s not sure what he’s going to do on that front, but better safe than completely fucked with a pineapple.

“So what do they do?”

Neva shrugs. “Leo didn’t answer my post on his wall, but Harley’s doctor is purging her system. That’s why you had to work last minute. Apparently she figured out something was up last night when everyone at her wine and cheese party started acting weirdly, and went straight to the hospital.”

Michael knows what that means. A dinner party is as good a place as a cafeteria to have a mouth orgy. It’s funny, in theory. Something a dumb rom-com could stem from, starring Hugh Grant and Reese Witherspoon. But the same insider knowledge that lets Michael wash away the vague statement to the true grit of it has him knowing exactly how funny it fucking isn’t.

“I wonder if they’ll do a spell to find all the affected customers, or if there’s already something set up to counter that and they’ll have to go through receipts by hand.”

“Would they have countered it? How malicious could they be?” Neva asks.

Eric scoffs. “They’re hexers. They watched who knows how many people buy poisoned groceries, and they probably laughed when the poor saps got into the parking lot. I’d say malicious as hell.”

“I’m gonna go start putting the chairs down,” Michael offers. It’s a legit excuse, it’s something that has to be done that Neva hasn’t done yet, too busy with the inventory in the back. It’s also an excuse that’ll get him away from them, especially if he decides to wipe down the tables afterwards. He doesn’t want to hear them talking anymore, he needs to think.

The thing is, he has to decide if the new facts change anything. Because if they do, Michael can tell Gavin, has to tell Gavin and put him on the same footing as Ryan. Which coincidentally might lead to Gavin being more honest about whatever he’s sharing only with Ryan. Which could be something Michael doesn’t want to know, but how’s he supposed to know that ignorance is bliss if he doesn’t get to test-drive knowledge? But if they don’t, then everything stays the same. 

The longer he gets to think about it, the more Michael’s leaning towards doesn’t change anything. With the addition of other victims it’ll be a lot less likely that Gavin might think he bought magical bread on purpose to make a joke or a fetish out of Gavin’s abilities. Michael now has proof he didn’t do this, someone did it to him. But it’s that same proof that makes nothing else different. Someone still did this to him, still magically attacked him. That’s still going to piss Gavin the hell off. And honestly, Michael can’t really see Gavin being satisfied with legal justice. Not even hardcore twenty years-to-life felony justice. He’ll send a revenge hex out into the world, and sure prisoners are supposed to be guarded against using magic, but if there’s cigarettes and drugs and tattooing equipment smuggled into jail, magicians powders can be brought in too. And no one has less to lose in a magician’s battle than a convict magician. It’s just too fucking dangerous to tell Gavin.

Michael’s been working for about an hour when Gavin’s **morning boi!** text comes through. It’s quickly followed by

**Going out to date Ray**

**Test the waters before you and Ryan pile on**

**See you later**

Michael chuckles, then types out **Team Crazymad are better than Team Vav and Bay. You’ll be crying because we’re not there.**

**You don’t get to name our team. We’ll let you know.**

He rolls his eyes and shoves his phone back into his pocket. Gavin comes up with fucking terrible team names. He’s the reason he and Ryan are Team Love-n-Stuff. If this works out well enough that Ray and Gav do need a name, Michael fuckin’ hopes Ray picks it, for his sake.

***

Michael can tell the morning date went well the moment Gavin and Ray walk in together. That in itself is a pretty big hint. You don’t split a cab with someone you want to kick in the face. It’s more than that though. Gav gets smug when he’s feeling appreciated. It’s part of the reason that it’s easier to love him through insults. Gavin can handle put downs better than Michael can handle ego. Gav’s got this annoyingly overly-confident smirk spread across his face now, which has to mean Ray’s left him feeling on top of the world.

When they come up to the counter they only have to suffer through the line for a brief moment. The entire morning’s been an endless stream of people, but Michael waits a second to put the cash from his Watermelon Drip sale in the register so Neva has to take the next customer, giving Michael Ray and Gavin. Close up Gavin still looks cocky. He’s also a bit disheveled. Michael’s not exactly surprised. Gav’s not a wait until proposal kind of guy.

For some reason, Gavin’s comment to Ryan last night has stuck. Michael ends up asking “How’s it going, lads?”

“Good good.”

“The video game is strong with this one,” Gavin intones, faking serious for a second.

Gav knows better than to ask if there are any return smoothies in front of Neva. Gavin’s dumb sometimes, but not dumb enough to fuck his boyfriend over like that. Luckily she doesn’t care about loitering, or their dirty mouths, as long as they’ve bought something. So Ray tosses down some cash and Michael makes twin mango banana smoothies and they start talking war stories of their hardest childhood games.

There’s a long interruption halfway through Gav’s story of some weird British video game with evil sunflowers when what looks like an entire soccer team comes in. The lads have no choice but to retreat to one of the tables as Michael busts ass with Neva to fill a fucking eternity of plastic cups, each of the ten year olds switching their minds about fifteen times. But thirty-motherfucking-six orders later Ray and Gavin are back at the counter, and Gavin’s got a sympathetic look on his face that Michael might attempt to redeem in the form of handjobs later. Not that he can say that now. With the invasion of preteen girls Michael can’t say anything dirty like he might want to. Really, he shouldn’t even kiss either of them. It’s still better having them about a foot away than it would be sitting across the room.

“What time do you get off?”

“On Saturdays I work an eight hour shift, so a while yet.”

Ray scowls. “Gavin, it’s two pm. Why the fuck did we come here now? And you totally insisted too.”

Gavin shrugs, one thousand percent unrepentant. “Michael gets bored. We can talk to him until he gets off, in between customers.”

“How the fuck long can you talk?” Ray replies.

Michael answers for him. “He’s like in-flight entertainment. Always ready and demanding everyone be grateful for it.”

As it turns out, he doesn’t actually get much time with no line. Ray’s kind of right. This Saturday is as busy as they usually are. Only Sundays after church are worse, and Michael’s found it better for his mental health if he doesn’t get multiple waves of happy believing idiots in his face, so according to the scheduling asst. manager he’s got an unmoveable task every Sunday. Michael doesn’t feel that bad about the situation though. Ray needs to know Gav’s an impulsive shit. Besides, so many discards come on the line while Neva‘s in the back doing paperwork that Michael gives Ray two. How can you be bored with a Tripleberry Squeeze and a Strawberry-Kiwi Slide smoothie?

Lindsay comes in just before end of shift, obviously ready for hers. It’s not as awkward as he’d thought it’d be. She doesn’t say anything about seeing Ray with Gavin, even though Michael’s sure she knows, but she doesn’t do passive aggressive silence either. She just nudges him hard with her shoulder and makes a crappy joke before telling him she works Tuesday.

Michael clocks out and brainstorms his next move. He really doesn’t need Gavin noticing the shut down store and asking questions. It’d be like pulling the bottom block out of a Jenga tower; not necessarily disaster, but certainly making things harder for every future move. Curious Gavin is persistent as fuck. 

Luckily he’s got a good method of distraction. As soon as they exit the store Michael cups his hand around Gavin’s ass, and uses his other to hold Ray’s hand. Gavin gets the verging on slutty move because he’s a total fuckin’ dog for it. Ray gets the gentlemanly move because as much as Michael has ideas about what they did during their morning ‘date’, Ray might wanna work at different speeds for the three of them. Yeah Michael bugged Gav about his testing the waters idea, but he wasn’t exactly wrong.

“This is new,” Ray comments.

“I’ll walk the whole way to the bus stop like this if you will,” Michael answers. No pressure, but it’s better to know sooner rather than later if Ray ranks the same as Gavin on the PDA scale. Gavin, for the record, has landed at complete indifference to public indecency since the first day they started dating. 

“Why the hell not?”

“Michael,” Gavin whines as they wait at the light because jaywalking here is as good as suicide, “are you holding his hand? Why aren’t you holding my hand?”

“Because I’m grabbing your ass! Would you fucking rather I hold your hand?”

“Um. Maybe not.”

“Then shut the fuck up.”

Michael is surprised when Gavin has the right bus fare. All nickels and dimes, but better than having a ten dollar bill and expecting the bus driver will make change. That requires more foresight than Gavin usually has for every day non-magical occurrences. He must have really not wanted to fuck today up with stupid crap. Impressive.

Michael flashes his pass behind Gav as the Brit continues to drop in his dimes, Ray behind him with the same, and they head into the bus to claim seats. Fuck the front sideways ones; they have three spots, but you have to vacate them if some old person or wheelchair person comes on. Michael’s not sure what Ray’s route is normally like, but Michael’s never not had to move. Better to find a different cluster, where they won’t have to rearrange if a sixteen year old with two toddlers and a stroller gets on.

By the time Gavin’s done hucking change, they’ve settled side by side at the very back, where the five seater is. Michael’s second to the left, Ray’s against the window, and his feet are up to save the sideways seat. Once Gavin sits they’ll be almost triangular. It’s the best possible configuration.

“We’re just three sad motherfuckers on a bus.”

Michael rolls his eyes. “What do you want? I’m broke ass poor, Gavin’s got a super secret chauffeur, and you- actually I don’t know. What is your excuse?”

Ray shrugs. “Don’t have my license.”

“So until Gav goes sharesies with Team Magic, I win the lottery, or you learn how to memorise facts for twenty minutes before forgetting them completely, bussing better make us happy as shit.”

After a few minutes of everyone dicking around on their phones, Michael’s curiosity gets the best of him. Gavin’s shirt has definitely been shoved up his body, Michael _knows_ that kind of wrinkle. Why wonder, when he can just ask?

“So what did you do earlier? I’m not saying I need to beat Gavin, but might as well make it interesting. And lets be real, Gav didn’t blow you.”

“No, he did not.”

“Close though,” Gavin protests. “He came on my face.”

Ray raises his voice, thus proving definitively that public indecency is not going to be a no-go. “You came on mine!”

“I _know_ ,” Gavin escalates. “I wasn’t complaining, I was saying that was the sequence of events.”

“So handjobs,” Michael summarises before they can attract the attention of every person on the bus. He can already imagine their dynamic in the future. It should look like a horrorshow of loud and obnoxious, but it really just makes him want.

Gavin makes that stupid face where he’s pouting but won’t admit to it, just like Michael will never in a million years admit to finding it endearing. Cute, even. “Really top handjobs though. Sexily positioned.”

“I can still do better.”

Ray smirks, then fakes thoughtful. “Is saying ‘prove it’ too demanding and like creepy? Not here and now, but, ya’know.”

“Nah. Michael totally will,” Gav answers for him. Not that he’s wrong.

“Not here and now,” Michael repeats. Airplane sex, sure, if he ever gets to ride one with any of them. Greyhound sex, maybe, depending on how many people are sitting around him, and how high the backs of the seats go. On a public bus? Just a tad too disruptive for him.

“We’ll get there eventually.” 

Ray’s house is mid-sized. Split level, Michael can tell from the windows just above the grass. Smaller than Michael’s used to be, but probably bigger than Gavin’s apartment. Not that he fucking knows for sure, thanks Gav. Definitely larger than Ryan’s dorm room. 

Probably more private than Ryan’s dorm room too. The wall of staircase leading up is covered in pictures. Michael’s not sure how many are actual primary family and how many are just distant relatives, but it doesn’t much matter because Ray informs them as they’re kicking off their shoes that no one’s home, or probably will be. Unlike Michael’s stay at home mother and his frequently telecommunicating father, Ray’s parents actually leave the goddamn house. Maybe that’s how he’s so comfortable in his sexuality; he didn’t have Net Nanny and helicopter parents and bullying brothers. There’s no chance for hot paranoid shame welling up every time you realise you’re paying more attention to the guys in commercials than girls if you’re not stuck in the rec room for family prime time every night.

“Unless you want a snack or something, we’ll go straight downstairs. That’s where all the good shit is.”

Michael knows Ray’s talking to him, Gavin’s already had this house tour. He also knows he can’t take Ray up on his offer. He has to follow the doctor’s order that Harley via Neva unwittingly gave him for free. He has to purge his system.

“Nah. Not right now at least. Had my lunch and a smoothie before you showed up.”

“Michael doesn’t like to take stuff,” Gavin says in a stage whisper. “He hates charity.”

True as hell. Unfortunately, Michael’s pretty damn sure he’s going to have to get over it. At least temporarily. 

Whenever he next goes home- might not be soon, Ray hasn’t said if they’re staying over. Even if they’re not, Michael might go home with Ryan instead. He wouldn’t mind spending his entire suspension in Ryan’s dorm, actually. But he’ll have to go home eventually, and whenever that happens Michael’s going to have to throw out all his groceries. And that’s a big fucking problem, because his next paycheck is the rent paycheck. For the next few weeks dinner will be the discard smoothies at work. Unless he wants to starve Michael will have to ask his boys to share a combo at lunch or bring a bagel by in the morning. Maybe not Ray. From dating to begging in twelve hours is a bit much. But Ryan has dinner cards for all you can cram on one tray, and Gav has Geoff’s leftovers. He just has to force himself to actually ask. In a way that doesn’t trigger Gavin’s curiosity, to boot. Like it won’t be hard enough just to ask, he’ll have to get fancy about it.

“Downstairs ho!” Ray bellows.

Michael snickers and takes the flight downstairs at a near-run. His socks sticking to the carpet keep it from getting dangerous. Fucking _carpet_ , though. When was the last time he got to be in a place homey enough for carpet?

Ray’s right. If you consider rotting your eyes away staring at a screen the good life, he’s right, the basement is where the joyous bounty lives. Luckily Michael does. If by some miracle he’s able to save money in the future, a living room like this will be his first luxury. Ray’s got every console in existence, and enough controllers to supply an elementary school. The walls are covered in enough limited edition posters to tell Michael just how many midnight releases Ray’s been to. The couch is a patchwork of stains but it’s as wide as a bed and Michael predicts a lot of time spent on it if this goes well.

“What are you playing right now?” He gestures to the wide expanse of tv. They were hanging out for hours, they had to have done something else besides handies with facials attached.

“I dunno, like twenty things? Left4Dead2 is in the actual physical 360 though.”

Michael shrugs. “Okay. Crank that up.”

“Play on one player, take turns between checkpoints?”

His first instinct is point out how stupid that is. Ray has three controllers, there’s no reason to have to take turns. His second instinct is to kick himself in the nuts for being so stupid. If three people play, they’re stuck with razzing each other. The smuttiest outcome is lewd comments about sucking zombie dick. If one person is playing, the other two can make out, and possibly sexually harass the one with the controller.

“Fine with me. Gav?”

“Sure.”

They let Michael go first. It’s bad for the plan. It’s hard to focus on hitting on someone with Smokers lurking to fuck you up. That kind of shit demands his attention, since being frog-zapped with sick zombie tongue is not on Nick’s To Do list. On the plus side, the game’s really fun. He nearly dies a few times, fuckin’ Tanks, fuckin’ computer led characters not saving his ass fast enough, but eventually makes it to a save point to collect more ammo and pills.

Ray takes next turn. Michael doesn’t waste a second. The moment Ray-as-Nick kicks down the door Michael slides his hand across Ray’s leg and down his inner thigh. A twist of the wrist and he’s got balls in hand. 

Ray pauses the game with a semi-panicked flick of the thumb. “What are you doing?”

“Supporting you both emotionally and physically,” Michael says, as straight-faced as he can. Gavin doesn’t make it that far. He takes one look across Michael to see what’s happening to Ray on the left side of the couch and and starts squawking laughter.

“Okay, fine.”

The next stretch of time is nothing but a game of chicken. Ray’s determined to play through. Michael’s determined to make him let Nick die because he’s too distracted to notice a Charger coming at him. Gavin’s goddamn Switzerland; cheering on Ray as he obliterates a Boomer, then immediately after that nudging Michael and wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

“Save point!” Ray bellows, utterly victorious. He stands and opens his hand to drop the controller the way rappers mic drop.

“Do you want me to applaud?” Michael bitches. He’s kind of impressed though. Ray held up under a pretty heavy onslaught. Gav would have crumbled, Michael knows that much.

“No. I want you to get your hand on my cock.”

“You do kinda owe him,” Gavin throws in.

“How’d you feel about,” Michael pauses for a second, not sure he should say it. Isn’t it a thing that you let the most innocent sexual party lead? Not that he learned that in sex ed. He didn’t learn fuck all in sex ed. Shit, Texas sex ed doesn’t even have laws against teaching students misleading HIV info. In junior high his class was told you could get HIV from any bodily fluids, including spit. So fuck the ‘lessons’ of sex ed. It’s more of a decent human being thing. 

“About what?”

Well _shit_. He has to finish what he was saying now, or Ray will think he’s weird. “You know. Fucking.”

“Oh, that’d be top,” Gavin agrees enthusiastically.

Ray adjusts forward on the couch, twisting so he can see Michael, and Gavin beyond him. “You do that?”

Michael knows he has to be the one to answer. He started this line of questioning, and if you can’t talk about sex you shouldn’t be having it. Another lesson sex ed was too useless to actually teach. “I’ve had two boyfriends for three years. What do you think?”

“Good point. I haven’t though. Total newb virgin.”

“That’s crap,” Gavin replies. He leans to the side and pokes Ray’s cheekbone. “Came on your face, remember?”

Ray rolls his eyes at Gav’s nitpicking. He’s kind of hot when he’s annoyed. It’s Michael’s first time experiencing that; Gavin turns an ugly red to match his whine and Ryan is just scary. But good for Team Love-N-Stuff, because Michael happens to know they generally enjoy his pissed off self. Now they’ll have two. 

“Fine. Butthole virgin. Total ass-ramming virgin.”

“Well, whatever. That’s cool.” Michael is sure the fuck not about to make Ray try something he’s not ready for. That’s fucked up. It’s not like there’s not fifty different things to do the human body anyway. “I blow you, you blow me, Gav sits in the corner like the weakling he is?”

“Michael!” Gav protests, accent in full bloom.

“I didn’t say I was against it. Just that I hadn’t done it. Is there a way to work up to it?”

Michael’s brain freezes for a second before he starts to rewrite his assumptions. So much for Ray being comfortable with his sexuality because he’s been watching porn since Limewire was the place to download it. Who the hell doesn’t know how to work up to anal? Or that there are alternatives to dick-in-ass for anal play? And if not porn, what the fuck media was he talking about in the smoothie shop that told him he’d sluttily kiss everyone?

“Dude, you need to watch more gay media, man. What’s the most famous Brian and Justin scene?”

“That’s the black haired guy and the blonde, right? Didn’t the older guy take the blond to homecoming and then he got the shit beat out of him? That one, probably.”

“Not according to Tumblr.” Maybe Michael spends too much time on the Tumblr app, but if he does he’s not alone. The way Gavin’s reacting, Michael knows Gav’s seen the same gifset he has in mind. “One quick question. You shower since the last time you shit?”

Ray thinks for a second. His eyes go up and to the right, so Michael knows he’s accessing memory, not crafting a lie. “Yeah. Shit after breakfast, before Gavin was even here. Showered after he jizzed in my hair.”

“Fantastic. Where’s your bedroom?” There’s a door in the corner of the open plan basement. Michael hasn’t snooped, and if Gavin did earlier he hasn’t found it important enough to share. It’s probably the laundry room, or a bathroom, but it could be a basement bedroom.

Ray jerks his head towards the stairs, then follows up with “I share with my brother, so half the time I just sleep down here.”

Not exactly the information Michael was looking for. “Let me rephrase. I’m about to do indescribably dirty things to you. Where do you want that to happen?”

“All my best memories are on this couch. We had a sectional before it was cool.”

“How fucking delightful for you. Take your jeans off and lay down.”

Gavin gets up with the both of them, clearing the couch. He starts stripping alongside Ray. Michael takes his shirt and beanie off, but leaves his jeans and underwear on. Yeah he’s dooming himself to a constricted dick, but so what? It’ll be a good reminder to focus on Ray and make sure his experience is as rad as possible. Michael’s gotten his rocks off a thousand times before, and will again. But this could be a make or break situation for Ray. He’s gotta do it right.

“Kiss me now. I’m not kissing you after,” Gavin informs him.

“You big pussy,” Michael accuses. He knows Gav doesn’t fake his gag reflex, because why would you want to nearly puke five times a day? Doesn’t mean it’s not complete bullshit. Besides, Gavin’s anticipating a problem that’s probably not going to be a problem. Borrowing trouble is bullshit.

He still makes out with his boyfriend though. Punishing Gavin would be punishing himself, and Michael’s not about that. He’s more about the way Gavin’s cock hardens against his hip. More about the way Ray’s on his side with his arm up, draw-me-like-your-french-girl style, watching them with as much enthusiasm as he had in the staff bathroom last night. More about sex in general, really.

The sectional is long. With Ray’s head on the arm rest there’s still more than enough room to crawl in behind him, and for Gavin to sit on the short end. If he sat crosslegged he could be out of the way, but instead he has his legs extended. For a moment Michael wants to yell that he’s in the _way_ , dumbfuck, but he doesn’t. It’s half annoying, but it’s not like he doesn’t get Gavin wanting a bit of personal contact, even when the spotlight’s not on him. Threesomes work better when everyone’s involved.

Ray rolls onto his stomach as Michael attempts to settle on the rightmost cushion. Maybe Ray’s secretly a yoga champion. Michael’s pretty over the idea that Ray’s a hipster at this point. Despite the wardrobe, there’s a general lack of healthy nonsense surrounding him. He busses, he doesn’t ride a bike, and earlier he asked if there was an M&M smoothie available. So chances are Ray is not one of those stretching in the park a-holes. And if Ray’s not, the cobra position to get his head off the arm rest isn’t a sustainable position. Probably not even the yoga freaks could hold it the entire time. Michael wouldn’t know. Granola Greg is the closest Michael gets to knowing one of those jerkoffs and he sure the fuck doesn’t quiz Greg about his sex life. What _will_ actually work is good ole hands and knees. Michael urges Ray onto all fours, hands sneaking down and on either side of his pelvis to encourage it. 

Ray goes with it, but he warns “I just said I wasn’t ready to get fucked.”

“If you think I’m about to nail you right now your Porn Hub account must be very boring.”

Michael’s got an account. Well technically they all have accounts, but Michael’s pretty sure he uses his most frequently when the opportunity doesn’t arise to hang out for a while. Gavin’s got Geoff, Ryan’s got strangers, and Michael’s just got his hand. And yeah, he’s got a few staple uploaders, but he tries to get some variety in there. It doesn’t hurt that skinny and tattooed and big and bearded are two main queer subsets, so he’s got a lot of options for a fantasy jerk off.

“My taste is respectable, thanks.”

The opportunity is too golden to pass up. Michael literally has to say “yeah, I hope so.”

Gavin starts giggling, high pitched amusement, and Michael knows that Ray’s about to say something. You can’t just leave responses like that alone. There’s only one way to stop this from becoming a conversation. Michael leans in and licks a stripe up Ray’s crack. 

“What the fuck?”

Michael’s pretty sure it’s self explanatory. He follows the same path one more time, this time lingering on his rim.

“The answer to the best Brian and Justin scene is the rimming scene,” Gavin informs the room in general. He sounds completely unaffected, but if Michael twisted around he’s sure Gavin’s hand would be on his dick.

“That’s- That’s great,” Ray manages, still sounding shocked.

Michael gathers his saliva and spits on Ray’s asshole.

“Well that felt disrespectful,” Ray comments drily. Gavin giggles.

“Don’t worry about it. Your ass is about to be worshipped.”

After the third pass Ray gets into it like Michael figured he would. After all, what’s not to like? Michael’s always happy to be on the giving or receiving end, as is Ryan. Gavin’s a bitch about it, but he can’t help his oral failures. And while if Ray’ll be willing to do it is still up in the air, there’s no question that Ray’s into getting eaten out. Not when he’s canting his hips back like he’s giving more of his ass to Michael. Desperately so, like he wants nothing more than for Michael to have all of him.

Ray starts moaning as soon as Michael starts tongue fucking him. It’s the kind of feedback that only makes Michael want to do it more. Do it better. He buries his face in Ray’s ass, one hand keeping Ray spread as the other stabilizes him against the couch, and works his tongue.

Ray’s continuous moans drop an octave. It’s an interesting moment to squirrel away for later, like he smells like cologne thinks water smells, or he. Except then Ray’s asscheeks clench around Michael’s face and he comes grinding into the cushion. So apparently what a baritone groan means is an orgasm speeding forward from the horizon. That’s just fuckin’ dandy for Michael. He’ll just have to remember that for next time. 

Hopefully there’ll be a next time. 

“I can’t believe rimming made you come,” Gavin says. The mockery is pretty much wiped out by how breathless he sounds.

“I can’t believe I lasted that long without coming,” Ray returns, not in the least bit embarrassed. “Not all of us have had two boyfriends for three years.”

“You’ll have three starting tonight. You’ll get used to it,” Gavin replies. Such a confident asshole, Michael thinks. Ray hasn’t even met Ryan yet.

Still, he can’t answer with a worried _do you like us, do you really really like us?_ chunk of begging. It’d be pathetic. That’s the last thing anyone wants in a lover. Michael goes the better way, takes the higher ground. Mocking Gavin. “Might get used to me doing it. If Gav ever offers to lick your ass, you know he’s been possessed by a demon, or developed dissociative identity disorder.”

Ray laughs heartily at that. Another shiny new fact about Ray unknown-middle-name Narvaez Junior; he doesn’t appear to be the passing out after sex type. He’s already sitting up, forcing Michael to sit back on his haunches to get out of the way.

“Before you get each other off, toss me that kleenex box? I need to wipe up my spooge.”

Pretty sure Gavin isn’t going to get off his lazy naked ass, Michael stands and grabs the patterned cardboard box from the waist high top of the shelving that runs a full wall of the basement. While he’s up he kicks off his own jeans and underwear. His dick sings the song of freedom and Michael can’t help but notices both the lads taking a good hard look. 

Michael’s got two options. He could pose like an art school model long enough to get an ego boost, long enough to feel really goddamn wanted. Or he could hustle into the corner of the sectional, get into Gavin’s space, and get his dick touched.

It’s not really much of a decision.

Once Michael is settled, Gavin grins at him, stroking a few fingertips against his chest. “What’s going to make you nut?”

“You could suck my dick,” Michael taunts.

“I didn’t know puking gets you off. You learn something new every day.”

“Shut up and give me a handjob.”

In the end Gavin gives them both a handjob. They kneel facing each other and Gavin grabs their dicks together. Michael keeps one hand on Gavin’s back to stabilize them better. Once Gav makes it clear he’s not going to kiss him -not that Michael ever doubted that claim earlier- Michael drops his head to enjoy the view. His cock looks good in Gavin’s hand. Always has, always will.

Ray somehow manages to toss them to kleenex box just in time. With one of Gavin’s hands fisted and digging into Michael’s hip and the other the reason for kleenexes, it’s up to Michael to pull a handful out and put them where they need to be. It’s a lot like an umbrella over an oil rig; messy but comically effective.

Today’s apparently the day for instant bouncing back. It takes Gavin about thirty seconds to go from O-face to bossy.

“Go brush your teeth,” Gavin orders, like a dumbass.

“There are spare brushes in the floral storage box in the bathroom armoire,” Ray adds more helpfully, pointing to the lone door. Still foolishly. There’s no reason. Michael doesn’t have shit on his breath, he knows that for sure. It’s not the kind of thing you don’t notice. 

He gets up though, because sometimes it’s easier to fake it than fight. Nine times out of ten he’ll fight anyway, as a matter of principle, because fifteen years of pretending was long enough, but on occasion it really _isn’t_ worth it.

The bathroom is obviously adult decorated, unlike the room outside. The towels are coral coloured, the mirror has a bevelled edge, and the hand soap is sitting in a shell shaped soap holder. There’s not a poster or a Spencers novelty lamp to be seen. There’s not even Doritos bags in the trash can, so Ray must take his garbage directly upstairs.

Michael gets as far as peeling the cardboard back from the flimsy plastic and popping the toothbrush into his palm before going back to his real opinion. This is stupid. His mouth is fine, and he’s not letting Gavin’s stupid paranoia get to him. He wets down the brush and dangles it on the sink edge for look, then gargles and spits so his lips are wet. But really, he could just swallow the cup of water, right? Even when you’re fasting you can drink water, Michael’s pretty sure. He’s never actually had to fast for surgery or anything, but considering people can get sick and die from dehydration, water as an exception makes sense.

Michael takes a minute to put himself back together. He can’t shower, it wouldn’t be right, but he can give himself a second to touch his hip where Gavin’s pressing knuckles will probably bruise, his already bruised face that was against Ray’s skin. Reclaim himself. The next thing Michael knows, there’s a knock on wood. It goes to show exactly why he needs this time that his first reaction is to look at the towel covered door that can only lead to a cavelike utilities room, rather than the actual door leading back to society. The ridiculousness doesn’t matter though, because his boyfriend isn’t the type to think of closed doors as actual barriers. It takes about three seconds post knock for the door to fly open.

“You doing that post-sex brooding thing?” Gavin asks. 

In the early days Michael would have protested a statement like that. There’s a big goddamn difference between Angel-esque brooding and recentering in your body. But having attempted to explain it to Gavin a dozen times without any gained comprehension because Gavin doesn’t do it himself and his brain isn’t built for empathy, Michael no longer bothers. Gavin can think what he wants, no skin off his nose.

“Sure the fuck am!” He answers instead, faux cheerfully.

“Are you done rinsing? Pass me your glass.”

“What, not kissing me makes you thirsty?” Michael asks pointedly.

“Oh come on. You can’t tell me you don’t feel loved right now. Your lads got you.”

Michael rolls his eyes rather than answer that, then sticks the plastic cup back under the faucet. Gavin holds the full cup at his mouth, but doesn’t take a sip. “Seriously boi, you know-” he starts before Michael cuts him off by pushing the bottom of the cup upwards, forcing the water into Gavin’s mouth. He fuckin’ knows he’s loved, and he knows Gavin wouldn’t be bothering to say it if he wasn’t still full of wrong opinions about what Michael needs. 

Gavin gulps and swings out simultaneously, and as soon as his fist connects, Michael lets Gavin take back control of the cup. He puts it down immediately, spluttering, and Michael stops the inevitable bitching by getting the kiss he was earlier denied.

“I dunno what you two morons are doing, but you’re welcome to put your pants back on!” Ray shouts from the main room.

“Should we rip his back off?” Gavin whispers, glint in his eye.

“Lets.”

For all the best intentions, it doesn’t happen. They haven’t even crossed the basement to where Ray’s sitting, fully dressed already, when Gavin starts swearing up a storm. Ray twists to see why, but Michael’s got a pretty good idea. Gavin’s journeyman talisman has activated; the pendant barely visible for how tight it is against his chin.

“Geoff can go bugger himself.”

“Uh,” Ray draws out. “Can he hear you when you say that?”

“What are you on about?”

Ray gestures to the talisman. “I know what it is, but I don’t know exactly how it works. Is it a telepathic thing? Is that how he knows when you need reminding of him? Can he hear you?”

Michael winces before crossing his arms and jamming his hands against his ribs. Clearly Ray’s never had an incidental interaction with Gavin, a class project or some shit, if he doesn’t know how much Gavin hates talking about magic. Not just with his boyfriends, of which Ray is now one, but with everyone. Gav does not let the streams of his teenage life and his journeyman life cross.

Gavin scowls. “He can’t hear me. It’s not a bloody big brother box, it’s a goddamn bell ring. But he can hear me now!”

Before either of them get the chance to ask him what he’s talking about, Gavin’s pulling his phone out of his pocket. It’s only against his ear for a second before he’s shouting into it. “I’m busy, what the gobbing hell? You know I was on a date, what if you’d interrupted- 

“Fuck you, it’s still a date if my jeans come off- 

“I’m not wearing knickers you knob, you’ve seen me naked enough times to know what bit of fabric holds my dick. And it would still be a date, so why don’t you- 

“No I’m not coming home for dinner. Michael doesn’t even work tomorrow!

“Well that’s super swell, but I’m _on a date_ , and I see him like once a week, so I think you’ll survive.

“And now you know! Now fuck off, you utter mong!”

Gavin slips his cell back into the biggest pocket of his magician’s jeans. “Now where were we?”

Michael chuckles. “You talking about the sex or the game? Because we can call up a hoard if you wanna shoot things instead of gagging yourself bright red when you realise that Ray just pulled his pants on, didn’t dry himself from my rimming or anything.”

Gavin does gag a little, but Michael’s laughing at him is shouted over by Ray’s protest. “Spit dries. It was probably totally dry before you even came! Besides, I already showered once today. I’m done. Someone could piss on me and I’d wait until tomorrow.”

“Do you think that’s likely to happen? Because I’d like to be out of the splash zone. I still have to bus home.”

“Depends. Is Geoff gonna do it to me when he comes over here to drag Gavin out by the hair?” Ray asks.

“What are you on about?” Gavin asks for the second time in five minutes.

“Dude, you were a total shit to your master. Aren’t journeymen supposed to do what they say?”

“He doesn’t fuckin’ own me, Raymond-”

Ray interjects, “not my full name, by the way-”

“He’s not my purchaser, or my god. He’s just Geoff.” Gavin shrugs. “He doesn’t even really want me to come home, anyway, he was just making a point. I said I’d text him before six about if I was coming home for dinner, and I forgot.”

“So instead of just texting you to ask, he used your journeyman talisman?”

Gavin rolls his eyes. “Don’t say it like he’s spitting on a priest or putting a communion cracker up his bunghole or something. Yeah it’s traditional, and yeah it means something to me. But only ‘cause it means Geoff’s my master, and Geoff’s fuckin’ top shelf. I don’t care if he misuses it, because that’s what arseholes do, and that’s what he is.”

A step or two behind Gavin, Michael’s able to shake his head at Ray without Gavin noticing. Ray’s probably got more questions, but Gavin will be increasingly less likely to answer them helpfully, until it ends with Gavin being in a pissy little mood. Better that Ray just stop and Ryan tell him what he knows in some private moment later tonight.

“Okay, whatever. It’s your relationship. Anyway, I can’t get off five seconds after I just got off, so how about you and Michael fuck off about the second round of sex and come play more Left 4 Dead like normal people?”

***

They’re nearly finished the campaign when the doorbells rings. Ray pauses the game, mid-horde. Michael makes a mental note to watch and laugh when he gets brutalised instantly when he turns it back on, having forgotten that he took a break mid-battle. As a group they go up the stairs. After all, it’ll be them, not Ray, who’ll know if it’s Ryan or some random my-car-broke-down serial killer that’s coming in.

Michael’s happy to see that Ryan hasn’t dressed for the date. Or maybe he has, but he knows a t-shirt and loose jeans are appropriate for a videogame and making out basement date. Michael always thinks of him in a button up collared shirt and tight accentuating jeans when he trolls for one night stands, but there’s not a button or a bulge to be seen. Or maybe that’s the difference. Ryan doesn’t know Ray, but he’s willing to try making it a casual important thing because that’s what Michael and Gavin want. 

Michael’s not sure if Gavin follows the same logic trail to being pleased with their older boyfriend, or if he just wants to activate some love-n-stuff. Either way they kiss before Ryan’s even crossed the threshhold, which clearly means Michael has to get his lips in on it too.

“Hey, so I’m Ryan.”

Ray nods. “Yeah, I kind of guessed by how they both went directly for the mouth.”

“Not necessarily a clue. They also get very excited about pizza delivery.”

“Hey, I’d be grateful too,” Ray replies, leading the way back down the carpeted stairs. “There’s a reason it’s a porn classic.”

Michael sees this mid-stairs conversation as the road diverging. The way they take this might make all the difference. Thank you Robert Frost and thank you English class. Either he brings up his favourite porno moments or he doesn’t. Ray’s obviously not going to be offended. The thing is it might remind him that everyone on the stairs -or actually, in the basement, at this point- has done way more stuff than he has, and that might lead to a weird peer pressure place. Not a place Michael ever wants to go. “Do you have four of every kind of controller?”

Ray snorts like it’s a stupid question. Given the full unit of games it probably is. Oh well, at least they’ve changed topic, even if it is just to mock Michael’s denseness. “What do you want to play?”

Ryan cuts in, “I think the true test of what this relationship could be is playing Mario Party and seeing if anyone murders anyone when stars get stolen.”

They play Mario Party 8 on the Wii. A brief argument decides them on the King Boo game board, Ryan’s sole vote of Bowser’s Orbit booed the hell down because the rest of them aren’t thieving assholes. 

It’s a pretty even game, in the end. Michael kicks ass on Lava Or Leave ‘Em, which comes up twice, but Gavin dominates anything driving related, like Kartastrophe or Scooter Pursuit, and Ryan lands on a Lucky Space three goddamn times. In the end though, Ray’s the winner, thanks to shopping star and Gavin stealing one of Ryan’s stars last minute. Ryan’s dire predictions aside, Ray is pretty sportsmanlike about winning. Not oddly so, like he’s worried about upsetting them, just chill. Probably comes from winning everything he plays, Michael would bet. Those thumb callouses don’t develop from not excelling.

Over the credits music Ray turns to his right to look at Ryan.“So not that I’m calling you out-”

Michael interrupts, “but he’s calling you out.”

“No, fuck you, I’m not. I’m just saying when we were playing Left 4 Dead Michael was all up on me.”

“It’s true. I wanted that man meat.”

Ray continues, “you weren’t. Like, on me.”

“That’s because Michael’s a little shit and I’m respectful.”

“Eff you!” Michael calls out, double raised fingers his punctuation. Michael’s respectful as shit; he only touched Ray once before he said ‘okay, fine’, and he obviously would have stopped had Ray said something else.

“The way I see it, you have two options. We can go slow, date, get to know each other. Or you can assume that your two high school friends don’t date evil older men, trust them and go for it, and we learn as we go.”

Before Michael can be honest and say they never really interacted at school, Ray’s jumping in. “I think the fact that you were straight up just now tells me what I need to know.”

“Wanna say that a bit more clearly,” Gavin suggests. 

Ray plasters on a big grin. “Sure can!” He twists to face Ryan. “Gavin gave me a facial and Michael put his tongue up my butt. What have you got?”

“You wanna get fucked?”

“No,” Gavin answers for him. “He’s not ready yet.”

Ryan takes the limit as well as Michael knew he would. Ryan’s not a creep. “Okay, cool. Do you have any opinions about blowjobs?”

“We could all munk each other off,” Gavin suggests before Ray can say anything.

“Uh, what?”

Michael could go off at this point. He’s yelled at Gavin for using stupid British words at least twice a week since he met him. Ray is new proof that no one ever knows what the fuck Gav is saying. Alternatively, he could explain and hustle them towards stage two, the whipping out of the dicks. “He means a circle jerk.”

“Oh, one trick pony,” Ray jokes. 

Gavin splutters indignantly. “I’ll have you know I’m excellent with bell-ends and arses. But you don’t want that, so I’m offering something else.”

“I didn’t say no, I said you gotta diversify.”

“What, his portfolio? Are you fifty?” Ryan laughs.

“Shut up and help me move the table. It’s not really a circle jerk if we can’t face each other, right?”

Michael tilts his head in acknowledgement. He’s got a point.

Once the coffee table is out of the way, they all sit on the floor. Gavin’s pants are already off, well out of the way. He hates getting them dirty or stained, because then he has to wash them, which means taking his magic bits out of every pocket and then redoing it in the order that makes sense to him once they’re dry. Lazy bastard.

Michael struggles to keep his eyes open as he jerks it. They naturally want to close, but he goddamn refuses. There’s too much to look at. For a bunch of dudes with the same goal -splattering their fingers with jizz- there are a few very different methods going on. 

Ryan, for some fuckin’ reason, is jerking off with his left hand. It’s not the first time he’s done it that Michael’s seen. It’s the weirdest thing. He’s not ambidextrous when it comes to anything else, he just likes the exotic feel of his non-dominant hand. 

Of course Gavin isn’t ambidextrous either, and he’s using both. One on his dick, like normal people. The other though. He’s leaned back far enough that he’s got his fingertips pressed on his taint. Another thing Googling has taught Michael that Texas Republican sex ed never would have; the reason that works so well for Gavin is the prostate can be reached through the perineum. Gavin wasn’t talking crap to Ray, he knows his way around an ‘arse’. 

Ray’s the one that Michael’s most intrigued by. Not just because he’s new, though that has something to do with it. It’s how he’s getting off with ridiculous teasing _patience_ , the way that none of them could manage. Gavin would probably whine until their eardrums burst if they tried Ray’s technique on him. Ray seems pretty fucking content though, going back and forth between slow strokes of his cock and fondling his balls. Michael may have unwittingly tapped into something earlier. A rare instance of good luck in his life; getting Ray’s favourite part on the first try.

“How you feeling, Michael?” Ryan asks. Fuckin’ lazy of him, liking dirty talk but not producing it himself.

“It’s a cornucopia of dicks, so I’m pretty stoked.”

“My knob’s not going in one of those straw french horn things,” Gavin declares.

“What if I gave you a hundred bucks?”

“Two hundred,” Gavin counteroffers.

“Yeah, for sure,” Ray answers at the same time.

“Show me the money and then I’ll do it,” is Ryan’s. 

All of the answers make Michael smile. Or at least he would be if he wasn’t gritting his teeth. He refuses to be the first person to come. He won’t let it happen. Even if they’re not playing the cookie game. Even though he’s gay and therefore completely unphased by the cookie game. It’s not a matter of consequences, it’s a matter of principle. 

Ryan’s probably the weak link. Unless he had sex with a cast member today, he’s got less orgasms racked up than Gavin and Ray. Surely he’ll crack first. Michael will be the photo finish close second, but he’ll still be second. Good enough for honour.

No one has come when front door slams shut. Michael freezes, hand clamped over himself. Ryan and Gavin are equally horrified. After a second of dead, echoing silence Ray speaks up. “That’d be Carlos. He’s the only one that has to shower the second he gets home, no matter what’s going on.”

“So what’s the protocol?” Ryan asks. Thank the lord above for Ryan asking the difficult questions, that’s all Michael can say. The gratitude’s not fair, but it’s strong. Michael will still have to hear Ray saying they need to sneak out the back door, right _now_ , but at least the words won’t be on him, for asking.

“What, for family coming home? I dunno. You can call up hey when he says hi, I guess.”

Better than Michael would have guessed, by far. Sometimes he gets a bit stuck in the way things were in sophomore year. But Ryan does too, replacing sophomore with senior. He even used the word _protocol_ the way they used to.

“No, I mean about...” Ryan trails off but it’s pretty obvious what ‘about’ is. They all have their dicks in hand, for fucksakes.

“He’ll be in the shower for twenty minutes. Unless you’re a porn star you don’t need that kind of time.”

“I guess.”

Michael drops his hand back to his dick, like everyone else. This time he’s even more determined to keep his eyes open. Michael wants to see his boyfriends and his potential boyfriend and this safe and happy basement, not his bedroom in his head and the anxiety that grew in those walls like a living thing.

Gavin gets one stroke in before he’s shaking his head and standing up to grab his jeans. “Nope. Can’t do it.”

Ray looks from Gavin and the half sexy half ridiculous wriggle he’s doing to get back into his skinny jeans, to Ryan’s sweaty blond hotness, to Michael and whatever the fuck makes him attractive to others. Probably not the curls peaking from the edges of his beanie, or the purple bruise on the left side of his face. “Uh. What about you?”

Michael shrugs. The mood is distinctly gone now. It would be a business orgasm, done to get it done, to get his dick from semi to soft, not a fun one.

Ryan chimes in, “I’m okay with the threat of being walked in on. I’m not okay with Gav not being okay with it.”

“Awwww. Love you too,” Gavin says.

“And that’s why they’re team Love-N-Stuff,” Michael explains as he tucks his junk back into his pants. “Because that’s about as romantic as their declarations get.”

“It’s more romantic than team Suck My Dick,” Ray replies.

“Especially since half of it never would,” Michael points out.

“But assuming you’re not as weak as Gav here, our percentage just went up to seventy five.”

“I’ll suck a dick. I’ll suck fifteen dicks!” Ray claims with bravado. Michael’s happy to hear it. Not just the words, although fuck knows he likes a good blowie. The attitude is good too. One thing Gavin and Ryan have in common is that they’re assholes on occasion. It would be harder to maintain a relationship if Ray couldn’t manage it.

By the time the floor is creaking with footsteps above them, they’re all tucked in and zipped up. Taking turns on Geometry Wars, heckling and cheering as need be. Ryan’s fucking terrible at it. It’s hilarious. Michael passes on a turn more than once to watch his older boyfriend eat it, without a speck of guilt. He happens to know that Gavin and Ryan love to watch him play things that end in rage quitting.

“Who’s the car?” Carlos shouts from the top of the stairs. 

Ray yells up without moving his head from Gavin’s shoulder. Also hilarious, the way Gavin flinches. “Ryan. New friend.”

“Boyfriend?”

“I can honestly say no dicks were sucked.”

Part of Michael is impressed. That would be the part that lied through omission for years. Ray’s reply is a shining example of lying by telling the truth. Gold fuckin’ star for Not-Raymond Unknown-Middle-Name for answering the way he did. The majority of Michael though is just worried that this is going to happen frequently. It’s exactly what no one wants to face again.

***

“I’m ordering a pizza,” Carlos shouts down the stairs. 

A quick glance at the time in the corner of the screen says Carlos is right. It’s much later than it was the last time Michael looked, to know how long they had to get Ryan’s dick back in his underwear before the shower was over and another adult was in play. Dinner time for boys and girls everywhere. Well, boys and girls who aren’t hexed. Fuck Ray’s brother for bringing it to attention. Five seconds ago Michael wasn’t even thinking about food. Now he can feel the cool hollowness of his stomach, even as he knows he can’t let himself fix it. 

“How many slices your friend gonna eat?”

“Get whatever! Lots. Leftovers!” Ray turns to look at them and cuts his volume in half. “He’s gonna get pepperoni by default. That okay with you guys, or...”

Michael’s mind races. He can’t stay. There’s no way he’ll be able to get away with not taking a slice. It’s not like Gavin and Ryan would believe he’s suddenly turned vegan. Eating as much as a bite would break his medical fast. Leaving is the only way to salvage this.

“Shit, guys. Can’t stay.”

“What? Why not?” Gavin asks, accent strong enough to twist the vowels and drop the T’s.

Ray frowns. “Are you one of those vegetarians that can’t even watch people eat meat? I’ll make him get Hawaiian.”

“No, it’s not that. My neighbour wants me to pet sit her super illegal cocker spaniel while she’s gone.”

“So take it for a walk bloody later!”

“I need the money, okay? I don’t-”

Ryan sighs. “Leave him alone, Gavin.”

“Fine,” Gavin mutters. “Should have gotten a cat if they wanted to break contract. Cats don’t need shit all.”

Judging from the slightly defensive stance, Michael still has to do damage control. Ray doesn’t get why money would be an instant argument ender. He hasn’t seen the thin times and how Michael makes it through. He will soon though, if Michael can’t hide it well enough. The next few weeks are not going to be fun.

“I dont want to go. I just have to. If she calls and I can’t put her on speaker to ‘talk’ to Bitsy, she won’t pay me. But we can hang out tomorrow? Morning even, if your family doesn’t do the church thing.” Ray can’t be that Christian; he just had his first date with three guys. But the trappings still might be there.

“Optional. Except for Easter and Christmas. No bowl of chocolate if no sermon. Technically still optional, I guess, but so far it’s been worth it to go.”

“Chocolate is pretty top,” Gavin agrees.

“The fuck is the number?” Carlos bellows.

“It’s under the Tetris magnet,” Ray calls up.

When Michael levers himself up from the comfort for the sectional, all three of them do too. Gavin he understands, his boi’s gonna want a kiss bye. Ray too, sorta. Ray’s not exactly an etiquette man, but maybe Michael’s gonna be walked to the door. Ryan though, is odd. He’s less minute to minute affectionate. As long as Michael makes the goodnight call each night they’re good.

“Tongue down your throat for the road?”

Michael cackles. “Shit yeah.”

Ray’s method is the same that it was in the staff bathroom; holding his head in place, only their lips moving. Michael breaks away only when Carlos yells to find out if Ray wants wings or a dessert more, so Ray can answer.

“Opinions?”

“I’m gonna drive Michael home, actually, so no.”

“Gavin, you care? You’re sticking around for dinner right?”

“Well I already told Geoff I’m not coming home, so might as well. I’d rather have something chocolatey. Where do you order from? Do they have lava cakes? Or those dipper things?”

“Tell Carlos dessert,” Ray half asks, half orders, pushing him by the butt toward the stairs.

Michael doesn’t really want to. Interacting with _any_ brother seems like a bad idea. In his experience, brothers are the worst combination of cruel peers and superior adults. The good thing about being kicked out is that Ezekiel and Joshua and Jeremiah all now stay the fuck away from him. They wouldn’t consider anything else, being perfect Christian examples of humanity. They probably think of it as shunning him. Michael thinks of it as a tormented to the brink of insanity, already lightly gnawed on rat, somehow, by the grip of Satan’s asshair, escaping the cat. It’s not just his experience either. Ryan doesn’t have siblings, but Gavin’s are so shitty he doesn’t even mention them by name. In the three years Michael’s known Gav, the Brit’s told less stories about them than he has fingers. 

In the end, he approximates following Ray’s request. Michael takes the stairs at a run, crams his feet into his sneakers and shouts ‘Ray wants dessert’ in the wake of his movement. He’s probably down the sidewalk before Carlos even registers the words.

“So why’d you want to leave?” Ryan asks at the first red light.

Michael plays it cool. “I told you.”

“There’s no way your neighbour has a dog. You would have ranted about barking.”

That’s actually a really good point. Like good enough that now that Michael thinks about it, it’s kind of surprising that Gavin fell for the excuse. Though to be fair, his love of bitching was set directly against his need for cash. That’s sort of a toss-up for believability. 

Still, now Michael has to figure out something else to say. Ryan knows about the food situation. Sort of. He knows about the bread, at least. He doesn’t know that starvation will help. Michael can’t tell him. Some of Ryan’s actor friends have eating disorders, a hazard of professionally needing to look perfect. Because he’s not a complete douchebag, their health stresses Ryan out. The last thing he needs is a boyfriend with a need to fast, even if it’s temporary.

“I just don’t want to scare him off. All of us all together all the time? It’s overwhelming. He probably needs time to know us one on one, even if he doesn’t think to ask for it.”

“And Gavin’s first?”

“He likes Gavin.”

“He likes you too.”

Michael rolls his eyes. “Fucksakes Ryan. Not a self-esteem thing. He likes all of us. Gavin’s just a good place to start.”

Ryan buys it. That or he lets it go. Either way the rest of the drive is just them enjoying the radio.

The way Ryan pulls to an idle in front of Morrison Tower Michael knows he’s not coming in. “So what’s the Saturday night plan? Kegger?”

“Definitely not. I have homework.”

“Nah,” Michael disagrees. “We didn’t get to come. Go take that out on some girl.”

“Dude.” Ryan emphasizes his disapproval by reaching out and tugging the edge of Michael’s beanie down to the tip of his nose. Michael slaps Ryan’s hand away and shoves the hat back up so he’s not completely blind. Fuckin’ asshole.

“In a nice way! Pound her until she comes seven times and can’t stop crying.”

Ryan quirks an eyebrow at him. “As good as that sounds, I have an insane amount of homework and if I’m not on a date I might as well not fail the semester.”

Michael shrugs. “Your choice. Call me before bed.”

“Will do.”

Ryan leans over and plants a dry kiss on his lower half of his cheek, softly enough that the bruise doesn’t so much as twinge. Then Michael scrambles out of the car. He doesn’t particularly want to be alone in his apartment for the rest of the night, but it’s not like he left himself a lot of choices. 

Michael is not Carlos. His first order of business is not having a shower. If he smelled like fruit after work that’s all gone now. He’s rubbed against too much skin for that. It’s possible his hands smell like precome, not blueberries, but that he’s fine with. No, the second Michael slams his door shut he glares at the cupboards in the kitchen. They’re full, and counter has a few things scattered, and it’s all a fucking lie. It’s poison. The sooner he gets it all out of his apartment the better.

“Fucking goddamn piece of shit,” Michael mutters as he tosses a loaf of raisin bread he didn’t even have the chance to try into the garbage. 

It doesn’t seem like quite enough. The whole hex situation has fucked him out of a night with his boyfriends. It’s gotten him suspended. It’s made Ryan and Gavin upset. It’s forced him to do things he doesn’t want to do. It’s broken his wallet. All of that deserves more than a simple drop into a bag. 

Michael finds the loaf in the otherwise empty plastic bag. He stomps on it, crushing it beneath his foot. “Piece of shit!” he screams. 

That’s when it becomes a destroy mission, not a gather mission. Whatever he can do to fuck up the food that’s fucked him up, he does. He even spikes the jam jars on the linoleum as he calls them out for being mouth raping horse fuckers. The explosion of glass doesn’t concern him. Gavin’s made his sneakers impervious to wetness and sharps forever ago. No tetanus for his boi!

Even when everything is trashed, in both the literal and slang form of the word, Michael can’t quite bring himself to stop. Actually expressing his fury is such a goddamn relief. He’s not ready to settle yet. So he jams his keychain into his pocket and slams his way back out of the apartment, garbage bag dragging on the floor behind his calves. 

Michael waits at the elevator for all of about three seconds before he can’t handle the wait any longer. The door to the stairs is at the end of the hall, covered in a few different typographies of graffiti. Sometimes Michael looks at them through Gavin’s eyes, wonders what loophole charm the artist might have had on his Sharpies to write on a door surely charmed to be graffiti repellant. Right now he doesn’t give two shits. He just shoves the door open and clatters down the stairs, bag continuously bashing him. Not that he cares. Seven flights is nothing with crystal clear numbing rage coursing through his veins. 

On the ground floor he turns in the other direction and heads for the parking lot. On the edge of the lot are two big dumpsters. They’re probably less than half full. It’s been two days since last pick up, Michael knows that. He doesn’t really keep track of garbage days. Why bother when a holiday throws off the entire schedule? Still, it’s hard to not be moderately aware. It’s not like it’s possible to sleep through the beep and clank of the truck backing up to dump it at five in the morning.

Sure enough, the left dumpster is almost empty when Michael heaves up the lid to slightly past ninety degrees. He swings the half full garbage bag over his shoulder. In that position, crunching and possibly leaking on his back, it’s much easier to treat the thing like a trebuchet. Michael slings the bag directly up and forward and lets go when it’s at its peak. It plummets into the dumpster so hard that the box shudders and clangs.

After that’s done, it’s like all his strings have been cut. Mentally, he’s at the end of his tirade, in the echo space between rage and returning to normalcy. Physically Michael drops to sit on the asphalt, uncaring that the ground’s probably filthy. He’s surrounded by cars and oil stains, and he can’t help but think that it would be better if Ryan were here. 

It takes Michael a few minutes to get up. Now that his aggression has drained away, he’s mostly just done with the world. Basically his standard mood post rage quitting the situation at hand, unless Gav and Ryan are around to cheer him up. But they’re definitely not, so he’s gotta suck it up and get shit done. Starting with brooming up whatever glass might still be scattered on the floor. Better now than when he forgets he’s had a tantrum and slices his foot at three am getting a drink of water. After that he’ll reward his adult behaviour with a tv marathon.

A few episodes into his third rewatch of Lost Michael’s bored. It’s a good show, but it would be better if his running commentary was supplemented by a boyfriend’s. Gavin and Ryan have great opinions on stuff. Ray hasn’t proven himself when it comes to filmed media, but Michael would bet it’s good, based on his video game observations. Seriously _fuck_ the hexer asshole for ruining his date. 

If only there were something he could do tonight. He could crash Ryan’s dorm again, but if Ryan really is all about the homework Michael will just be in the way. He’ll end up hanging out with Caleb, playing ultimate frisbee by moonlight or something. Michael considers texting Ray to ask if Gavin’s still there, but he doesn’t. It’s possible it’ll come off as possessive, and that seems like a terrible idea. It’d be the first step to ruining everything.

Because life just works like that, Ray texts him pretty soon after he starts the fourth episode. They come in in a flurry of half sentences, because apparently Ray’s that kind of texter.

**hey**

**so you guys weren’t too impressed**

**with what i said to carlos**

**the avoiding the question thing**

Michael didn’t think he was that obvious. It’s not like he punched Ray in the arm or started crying or something. At most, he might have winced when Ray lied by omission. **no. we’ve got closet issues**

**i could tell my parents about you three if it’s going to be a problem**

Michael is _not_ normally the two word answer sort of communicator. If a text can’t be understood by itself what’s the point in sending it? Desperate times call for desperate measures though, and it’s imperative as fuck that Ray doesn’t fucking do that. **don’t**

**don’t**

**do not do that and really don’t suggest to gvin that you might**

**more issues?** Ray sends back a second later.

As much as Michael isn’t really a dredging up the past kinda guy, he’s not naive enough to think Ray doesn’t already have an opinion on what happened. Ray must. It’s not narcissism to think everyone at Juno Bailey has an opinion about his life because Michael knows the vast majority are negative. Everyone thinks he did a nasty hex on his parents and he’s lucky that he only got kicked out, not arrested by magicops. 

Shit, even Ray might think something along those lines. After all, he’s attracted by the idea that Michael did some rogue activist shit and got suspended. Michael can’t tell him he didn’t; it’ll expose things Gavin can’t know and Ray would probably tell him. But he can at least tell Ray the truth of his emancipation and why Gavin would flip his fucking shit if he thought he was the impetus for Ray outing himself as polyamorous. 

Michael just can’t do it _now_. It’s not a text conversation, way too long for that. Won’t work over the phone either. Gavin is a master eavesdropper, Thursday’s showing at the guidance counsellor’s office only one example. There’s no way Gav wouldn’t end up overhearing the whole conversation. And while Gavin already knows everything Michael would have to say, it’s a solid month none of them want to relive. It’ll be way better for Gavin if Michael lays it all out for Ray while Ryan distracts the second half of Love-N-Stuff.

**yeah. we can talk about it later**

And hey, he’ll have an opportunity to do that tomorrow. Their first date went pretty goddamn fantastically. Michael had fun from start to finish. More importantly, Ray definitely has interest in all three of them. Once they get this one serious conversation out of the way, tomorrow’s date will be just as kickass, and so will be any smaller combinations. It’s all but official. They’ve got another boyfriend. Isn’t that just a kick in the face to his parents?


End file.
